


Firework

by ThereIsNoInbetween



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: AU, M/M, My First AO3 Post, POV First Person, Slow Build, Wade never went to Weapon X
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:46:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4267308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoInbetween/pseuds/ThereIsNoInbetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's life is altered one Tuesday morning when the Make A Wish Foundation tells him that a Wade Wilson chose him specifically to be his Wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Upside Down

So, I never thought I'd ever be granted with even a sliver of the possibility of being someone's Wish for the Make A Wish Foundation. I mean, well yeah, I'd expect _Spiderman_ (me) to be a kid's Wish because well, that's Spiderman. But, who wouldn't want the friendly neighborhood crime-fighting, web-slinging, wall-crawling vigilante to be their Wish? I would. But, to have _me_ me? Peter Parker? No chance in hell! Peter is just a normal guy (looking past the superpowers) who is in no way interesting (again, dismissing the superhero thing). Plus, I'm not even talk worthy. I mean, if you're in the mood for a lecture on free radicals, how Mobius strips unlock the answer to the universe, and how universal expansion can lead to more answers about black matter, then I'm your guy.

But even so; to be a dying wish? Is that even possible for me, Peter Benjamin Parker? No way. Not ever!

So naturally, when I'd gotten the call from the Foundation Tuesday morning on my cell, I immediately thought it was that jerk Flash Thompson trying to pull a not-so-funny prank. He was practically the king of idiotic stuff like that. As I listened to the man on the other end talk, I used my laptop to track the call. I nearly crapped myself at the results.

There it was: 200 Park Ave #17, New York, NY Make A Wish Foundation.

I blinked a couple times, after properly choking on my spit, because I was seriously on the phone with someone from the Make A Wish Foundation. Now the only question was why.

I listened to the man talk (and successfully spilled my orange juice all over my jeans) and found out that Wade Wilson, a child I presume, asked to meet me and me only. After remembering how to breathe, the guy, William I found out, and I negotiated a day for me to spend time with Wade. We both decided that Thursday at noon would be a great time and William sent emails to both my school and The Daily Bugle that said I will be spending my time at a hospital with a patient.

We were just about to hang up when I asked the million dollar question: "Why?" I sounded so ridiculously stupid when I asked, but it was a burning question that I repeatedly asked myself during the entirety of the phone call.

William sounded momentarily perplexed. "Why what, Mr. Parker?" he asked.

Running my fingers through my hair, I cleared my throat and asked, "Why'd he choose me when there are plenty of others he could've asked to see him? Isn't that a bit of a waste?"

I heard William sigh as if he were 1000% done with my stupidity. He said, "Mr. Parker, I don't know why he chose you. I was just told to call you and discuss a date when you should come and visit Mr. Wilson. But, if I were you, I wouldn't think too much on it. You were chosen and that's all that matters, sir."

"Oh," I swallowed, feeling pretty bad. "Okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome," William said.

And with that, we hung up. In two days, I'd be going to visit a kid in the hospital.

 ****  


*      *       *

"Peter, that's amazing!" squealed Gwen, practically falling off the park bench on Wednesday after school when I told her about the phone call.

I had my polaroid out, snapping pictures of the clouds that passed by. "Is it though?" I asked, turning my camera to snap a quick picture of Gwen. She's really pretty.

She nodded with a laugh and her bangs fell into her eyes. "Yes, man!" She moved her bangs away. "You know this foundation was created on the sole purpose of granting the death wishes of both children and adults. And some kid chose to see you!"

"Exactly!" I said, feeling the anxiety. "What crazy kid wastes their Wish on me? I'm no one!" Gwen sighed and gave me a look of sheer unamusement.

I shook my head (and totally snapped a picture of her face). "You know exactly what I mean, Gwen," I said with a sigh. "The _other guy is_  just a persona."

"Peter," she warned, crossing her arms.

"Gwen," I mocked her in a higher octave.

Gwen giggled, a sound so light and beautiful, and shook her head. "Pete," she said, using my nickname that I love so much, "I'm serious."

I nodded, "I know. Me too." Walking off with my polaroid to a nearby tree and my back to her, I mumbled, "Who wants to meet Peter Parker?" and snapped a picture of a spider in it's web, which was woven into a small network of branches.

"Peter," I heard Gwen say, "whether you like it or not people like you, despite what Flash and his posse of dicks says. You're amazing."

I smiled, but only slightly because she doesn't deserve the luxury of making me smile when I'm pouty.

"I know you're smiling!"

I laughed and shook my head. What would my life be without her?

 ****  


Dinner time was silent as Aunt May and I ignored the obvious empty chair across the table. We never talked about it because we weren't ready yet. The death was too soon for the both of us.

Shoving a healthy forkful of Aunt May's dry, sponge-like meatloaf, I said, breaking the silence, "So, I got an important call yesterday."

She looked up from her plate, suddenly looking so old and vulnerable. "From who, dear?" Her voice sounded like it was forcing itself to not appear quiet and small.

I gulped down some water to wash away the dry taste of her drought-causing meat. "The Make A Wish Foundation," I said, trying to sound like I wasn't choking from the meatloaf. I felt like she baked this one a bit too long in the oven. I made a mental note to make dinner myself tomorrow.

"Is that that cancer foundation?" Aunt May asked with eyes wide as the sun. I gave a small nod and said, "Yes ma'am. I'm supposed to visit the kid tomorrow at noon and spend the day with him."

Aunt May smiled brightly, her wrinkles seeming to have disappeared and give her youth and a moment of true happiness. "Oh, Peter!" she exclaimed, "That's wonderful!"

"I'm so confused."

"Why?" her eyebrows drew close, reminding me of when I was little and she'd do that whenever I got into the dirt.

"Why waste a Wish on me?" I asked, looking up at her. "I'm nobody." And it was true to a certain extent. Peter Parker is no one. He's just a nerdy high schooler who spams The Daily Bugle with Spiderman pics like a crazed Tumblr blogger.

Aunt May smiled a warm smile that mimicked the sun beams shining in through a window. "Oh but honey," she said, using her smile that clears up cloudy skies as a weapon, "you're just as amazing as they come," she stabbed her meatloaf and raised the fork up to her aging lips. "Now stop complaining and finish your dinner." She shoved the meat into her mouth and chewed and chewed and chewed.

I nodded with a faint quirk of my lips. "Thank you," I said. She just smiled.

 ****  


When the time had come, I was a wreck. If I were a smoker, I would've gone through a whole pack of Newport 100's in about twenty minutes and would've been on my way to the drugstore to pick up more. I was a mess. Clothes were strewn all over the place because I couldn't decide on what I wanted to wear. I couldn’t decide if I should throw on an ironic T-shirt (to get the kid laughing), a science shirt (which ranged from jokes to Einstein pictures), or just a plain long-sleeved shirt (so I could, like, I don't know, seem as if I’m not terrified of the thought of meeting a sick child?).

I stood there in the middle of my room with my towel hanging off my hips, trying to think.

I could wear my _How To Pick Up Chicks_ shirt (that has a stick figure demonstrating how to pick up a baby chicken) and I could throw on my black skinny jeans. But, what if the kid thinks my shirt sucks? I don't wanna feel like a complete dillweed.

Maybe I could wear my _What Do You Do When a Chemist Dies? Barium_ shirt and my dark jeans. But, should I do contacts with this or my glasses? What camera strap would go with this? The blue one or the-

"Peter! We have to leave in fifteen minutes! We gotta beat traffic, dear!" Aunt May called from downstairs.

"Crap," I whispered and dropped the towel. "Okay!" I called back. I shook my head with an irritated sigh. "Okay. Screw it." I grabbed a random black T-shirt, a pair of boxers and dark jeans, and the blue camera strap.

After squirming into the pants (and adjusting my smushed junk), I quickly put on my glasses (no time for contacts), threw on a gray jacket and busted chucks, and flew down the stairs. In the kitchen, I grabbed my camera off the counter and had many failed attempts at trying to attach it to its strap, grumbling all the while.

"Peter," I spun around, still fumbling with the camera and strap with a frown, and was face to face with my aunt. She gave me a fond smile before taking the camera from my shaking hands and attached it to the strap without blinking in one swift motion. I sighed and slouched in defeat. She gave me a small pat on the cheek and said, "Try to seem calmer, okay?"

I huffed and said, "I can't-I can't help it. What if I mess everything up and ruin this kid's Wish? I would mess up this kid's life, Aunt May!" My cheeks were flushed with frustration and my fists balled up.

My aunt chuckled and pulled me into a warm hug, my fears momentarily washing away. I breathed in her scent as she said, "There's no reason to panic, honey. You're a bright and charismatic person that is impossible to dislike. You'll do fine." She released me and I deflated again.

Inhaling, I said, "I have every reason to panic. What if the kid hates my guts?" It wasn't impossible. I'm equally hated as both myself and _the other_ guy. So it wouldn't be a surprise to anyone really.

"Oh Peter..." Aunt May took my face into her creased, but soft hands and kissed my forehead. "I'm sure he'll love you."

"Can I just not go?" I whined, thinking of how enticing my bed seemed at that moment.

She chuckled and shook her head. "And disappoint a dying child, Peter?"

I sighed, feeling like a jerk. "You've got a point." Abandoning this kid Wade when he needed me would be a decision that I would never forgive myself for doing.

Aunt May smiled before kissing my forehead once more. "Ben would be so proud of you." Her aging blue eyes began to water.

"Aunt May..." I whispered sadly, feeling awful for seeing her sad like that. Besides me, she was entirely alone. I wondered what that felt like and, at the same time, hoped that I would never in my life feel that emptiness of not having my other half present. I don't think someone as fragile as myself could handle a pain so great.

My aunt shook her head and wiped her eyes. "Come on," she breathed with a sniffle. "Let's go. I can't have you be all sad looking when you're supposed to be brightening up a life today."

And with that said, we left our house and made our way towards the hospital.

 

*              *              *

I stared at the little time display on Aunt May’s radio. It read twelve fifteen. The traffic ahead seemed to be moving slower and slower every second that gradually ticked by. Closing my eyes, I told myself to breathe and not panic. It was a mere fifteen minutes, meaning it wouldn’t hurt anything. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointing that child. I wanted him to have the best day he could ever ask for, and yet here I was, being late and wasting his precious time.

“Peter,” I heard my aunt say, “just try not to get too upset. We’re almost there, sweetheart.” I knew she was trying her best and I was more than grateful for it, but it wasn’t helping. A little voice kept telling me that Wade was gonna hate me.

We didn’t arrive at the hospital until twelve forty-five. I didn’t even kiss my aunt goodbye. I jumped out the car in a panic and ran towards the hospital entrance, my camera thumping against my chest. If the doors weren’t automatic, I probably would’ve slammed right through them. Even then I wouldn’t have stopped to rip the glass out. This was Wade’s day and I had no time for stopping.

Approaching the front desk, I nearly tripped over my own legs and fell right onto its edge.

“Hi.” My breath came out in quick huffs. “I’m...Peter...Parker.”

The lady running the desk laughed. “I see that. Are you here for Mr. Wilson?”

“Yes,” I said with a cocked brow. _Mr. Wilson_?

“Ah good,” she said as she adjusted her ponytail. She then handed me a clipboard and a name tag. “Just fill out this form and write your name on the ‘Visitor’ sticker. When you’re done,” she pointed at the elevator, “take that up to the fifth floor. That’s the Adult Cancer Treatment sect. He’s in room 518.”

I came to a complete stop. “Ex-excuse me? Adult?”

Her smile faded slightly, her brows furrowing. “Yes? You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. “No! I just assumed that he was a child! You know, Spiderman and all…” My voice sounded very panicky as my thoughts seemed to stumble over one another like my school’s football team.

She nodded, finally understanding my confusion. “Ah, yeah I see. Well, I guess you’re in a for a treat.” Suddenly her smile turned apologetic and it had me question what exactly she meant by “treat.” Deciding not to waste anymore time, I filled out the form (noticing that it said “unserveillanced session”) and the name tag. I then ran to the elevator and pressed the up button a few hundred times.

I couldn’t believe that guy I talked to on the phone completely left out the fact that I was visiting a grown man! I felt like a complete idiot. I groaned into my hands, wishing to be somewhere else. The day just seemed to get worse as it crawled on. By the way things were going, I may have ended up dead. Or worse.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I stepped inside on an inhale, the doors closing on the exhale. I pressed the button to the fifth floor and decided to practice introducing myself to keep my nerves calm.

“Salutations! Great Scott, scratch that.” I cleared my throat and tried again. This time I held out my hand. “Sup bro?” I shook my head. “God, that was worse than the first one.” I sighed. I was seriously gonna make a fool of myself. _Mr. Wilson_ was probably gonna laugh at how lame I was and then kick me out. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Soon the elevator dinged open and I was immediately washed over with anxiety. I stepped out with wobbling legs and while shaking like a chihuahua, I looked for room 518. Throughout the halls there were sickly looking patients in wheelchairs and hooked up to IVs. All of them had sunken features and ghostly skin. Some had hair where others didn’t. The smell of rubbing alcohol, medicine, and death strongly lingered in the air, making me feel even more anxious.

When I finally found room 518, my heart stopped. Everything stopped. Behind those doors sat a grown man, who wanted to speak to me about the _other guy_. I suddenly grew nervous about the questions that would soon float my way and how I would answer them. What if they were horrible responses and he hated me for them? What if my answers seemed sketchy and I suddenly revealed my secret identity without thinking?

I had the sudden urge to flee and apologize to the Foundation for chickening out. I knew Mr. Wilson would hate me, but it wouldn’t matter, right? We wouldn’t have officially met anyways, and people hate me all the time. One more hater wouldn’t hurt…

But, he _needed_ me. He needed me and there I was, like his own personal knight in shining armor who was gonna make his life better by a thousand fold.

And that was all I needed to push me forward.

I reached for the door handle with a gulp and pulled the door open. I was suddenly met with two pairs of eyes: a nurse’s and a pair that reminded me of a blue midwinter’s sky. The blue eyes never left mine. It was like they were searching for something, like an answer to the purpose of life or why dogs bark.

“You must be Mr. Parker!” The nurse’s voice broke me of my trance and Mr. Wilson’s too.

“Hi, I’m so sorry I’m-”

“Jesus Christ, this kid is fucking _young_.”

Both the nurse and I looked at Mr. Wilson with wide eyes.

“Wade,” the nurse said, “That’s not appropriate behavior.” She gave me a sorry look.

Mr. Wilson scoffed. “What’s not appropriate behavior is the fact that no one told me he was still in diapers! Now I gotta hold back my cussing or else he’ll grow up to be a murderer-- or whatever old people are always saying.”

I opened and closed my mouth, completely at a loss. The only thing I could process was “What,” which, at that moment, was the constant mantra in my head. I looked back at the nurse and her look grew even more apologetic.

“God,” Mr. Wilson continued, “when were you even fuckin--excuse me, _freaking_ born? 2008?”

“‘97,” I stupidly said.

“Jesus effing Christ! I’m old enough to be your dad!”

The nurse closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Have fun with him,” she said before leaving. The door shut behind her and I looked back at Mr. Wilson, who was leering at me. I gulped.

“Sorry about that Petey-- I can call you that right?” Mr. Wilson said. “Anyway, I needed her out of here. Enough of our time has been wasted. Now, stop standing there like you’re Bambi and you just watched your friends get eaten by a bear.”

I blinked and nodded frantically. “R-right. S-sorry, Mr. Wilson.”

He suddenly boomed with laughter, frightening the hell outta me. “Jesus, kid. Just call me Wade.”

I stared incredulously at him, and in the process of doing so I saw his body for the first time. They started at his neck and disappeared beneath the pale blue gown only to reappear on his elbow and stop a centimeter up; scars. Nothing but scars.

Wade sighed, making my eyes dart to his face, noticing that he was probably in his late twenties and that he had a faint patch of baby blonde hair growing in the middle of his otherwise bald head.

“I know,” he sighed, suddenly looking vulnerable. I felt bad for staring.

“What type?” I asked before thinking, mentally facepalming.

“Types.”

“What?”

Wade laughed. “I had two types: Squamous Cell Carcinoma and Melanoma. The cost of the chemo was a bitch.”

I blinked, feeling absolutely horrible. “I’m so sorry.” God, could I get any worse?

“Why? You didn’t do it.” Wade’s eyebrow (or the skin of it anyway) was cocked. I was internally screaming at that point. I had made a complete fool of myself and I wanted nothing more than to run away.

“Look,” Wade said, his blue eyes looking right through mine. “We’re getting off track, and _I’m_ the one saying that. Yeesh. Congrats, man. You have a loudmouth telling you we’re going off track.” I said nothing. He looked at me for a few seconds. I noticed that his fingers would twitch every so often as if he wanted to scratch something, but stopped himself.

His eyes searched mine again, causing me to panic once more. I couldn’t figure out why he kept staring at me. Or maybe I was staring at him and he was staring back to make me uncomfortable. I don’t know. Either way, I stupidly couldn’t break the staring contest.

Suddenly, he breathed a laugh, his mouth doing this weird crooked smile that oddly made me wanna slug him. “I knew it,” he said, piquing my frustration.

“You know what?”

He sat back with an irritating all-knowing look on his face as he interlocked his fingers over his stomach. Then, in the most calmest manner possible that made me wanna hit him even more, he said with that stupid crooked grin, “ _You’re Spiderman_.”


	2. The List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Wade reveals that he knows Peter's secret, he asks him for something that Peter found himself incapable of denying.

“E-excuse me?” I sputtered. I tried to keep my breathing as even as I possibly could, but I failed epically. The room was spinning and everything was morphed and twisted. My heart dropped in my gut as his words repeated over and over again in my head. I was gonna puke.

“You’re Spiderman,” he said again, but this time slower.

I tried to laugh it off, but it came it out as a choked sob. “No I’m not,” I wheezed. “I-I just take pictures of the guy.” My voice was breathy and squeaky and I wanted to punch myself hard in the gut for not sounding convincing at all. But to be perfectly honest, I never really practiced how to handle the scenario where someone I’ve never met would accuse me of being Spiderman. It never seemed like an actual possibility. But there it was, fully playing itself out and I looked like an idiot.

Wade scoffed and looked even more pleased with himself. “You can probably convince someone else with that innocent bullshit, but it ain’t fooling me, Webhead. Once you’re close to death, your senses sharpen and you tend to notice more things around you because you don’t wanna forget them once you’re gone. So don’t lie to me, okay? _I fucking know.”_

I almost fell from the chair I was sitting in. I didn’t expect this guy to be so smart. How did he figure it out? Was I always that obvious? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I couldn’t lie to him. “How did you figure it out?” My voice was a small whisper as I looked him dead in the eyes with all seriousness.

His lips spread into a broad grin and I suddenly had a vision of myself choking him. “Like I said,” he whispered, his smile only growing more obnoxious when I glared at him lividly, “I noticed more things, like how a blind guy notices when the person next to him farts but says nothing.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I growled.

He sneered at me. “What I’m saying is: it was obvious.”

“How?”

Wade laughed. “How were you able to climb halfway up a skyscraper and get that picture of Spiderman, huh?” I glared at him even more. “Peter, you may have the whole world fooled, but not me. It’s just too obvious. But to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure if it was true when I asked to meet you as my Wish. I thought maybe I was officially going crazy, like the cancer was finally getting to me. But then you walked in and your physique completely matched his. Even the way you stood did. Then your face shape was so perfect it hurt. That’s how I knew.” He gave a small laugh.

Blinking, I sat back with nothing to say except, “So why do you want me here?” I ran through many different possibilities in my head, the one sticking out the most was blackmail.

Suddenly, Wade seemed nervous. His smile faltered and his eyes grew slightly larger. “Well, shit,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d get this far with you. I assumed that you would’ve hit me by now and ran for the hills.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I warned.

That got a laugh from him. “Well alright, Spidey.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Wade nodded. “Alright, sorry.” Then he reached around to his pillow and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me.

I took it and unfolded it, my eyes growing wide. It was a bucket list. At the very top it said, “MEET SPIDEY” in the neatest handwriting I’ve ever seen with bold lines under it.

“What is this?” My voice was shaking again.

Wade cleared his throat. “It’s a list of things I wanna do before I die.”

“I get that,” I said. “But why are you showing me?” My eyes stayed glued to the paper, scanning over the rest.

“Because,” he said quieter, “I want you to do them with me.”

I blinked, wanting to make sure I heard that right. “Excuse me?”

Wade groaned and scooted closer. He looked me in the eye, his blue ones seeming to plead. “I’ve admired you ever since you made an appearance two years ago,” he said.

“What?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “While everyone else was gushing over The Avengers, I was watching you, looking for you in the papers. You see, you were treated as an outcast, like someone who didn’t belong in this society crafted by fucking idiots. I identified with you because I’ve been an outcast my whole life. I was always too weird or not good enough, regretted. I felt like you understood that more than any of those super assholes who want to save the world. I mean, yeah, I really admire Captain America. But you? You made something click the first night you made headlines. I’ve wanted to meet you ever since.

“Then I remembered the Genies, and I knew that if I rubbed the lamp hard enough, my wish would come true. So I made this bucket list in hopes of you doing every single one of the things on there with me before I died. It’s the only reason why I’m still alive. You’re the last meal to my guy on death row.”

I gaped at him, my mind once again blank. I’ve never heard someone say this to me. Ever. No one had even bothered to tell me how much they cared about Spiderman. It was always “Thanks Spiderman! You’re the best!” before they would run off and never see me again. This, however, was a whole new level of gratitude. I kept someone alive who had no intention of continuing on. So because of that, he wanted me to go and do all these things with him before he dies as a thank you.

I looked down at the paper again and gulped. I couldn’t tell him no. It was out of the question.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll do it. I’ll do every single one them with you.”

Then out of nowhere, Wade hugged me; a tight embrace that flooded my senses with his scent of hospital and old skin. His scarred neck felt like sandpaper against mine. When he started to cry, my heart felt like it was gonna burst from its confines. I’ve never felt this amazing, not even when I swung from a skyscraper for the first time.

Wade pulled back and quickly wiped his eyes. “Okay,” he said, “enough with the girly moments before your nails end up painted barbie pink and my hair ends up braided.” I laughed. He leaned back into his pillow and took a few deep breaths, my heart racing all the while. Our eyes locked again and everything grew still, my thoughts hushed. Then breaking the silence, he said, “I want to start on it next Friday.”

“Next Friday?” I asked. He nodded. I looked down at the paper and seen the second check box:

 

  * _Go to a drive-in movie theater and watch Das Cabinet Des Dr.Caligari_



 

“Is that when the movie premiers?” I asked, not familiar with the title.

He nodded again. “Yeah. One night only. This movie’s a damn good classic and I want you to experience it with me.”

“Alright.” I smiled. “Okay, next Friday it is.”

“Fucking sweet,” he said. “Pick you up at eight.” I looked at him in confusion to which he laughed. “I get released Monday. As of right now, this guy’s cancer free.”

“Oh,” I said with a smile. “That’s amazing!” Suddenly, I remembered my camera and jumped up excitedly. “Hey, can I take your picture?”

Wade’s face lit up like the grand finale to a fireworks show. “Sure, but I look like Nux from Mad Max.”

“Nonsense,” I said with a laugh. He just shrugged in return.

I was getting my camera ready when he patted a spot next to himself and said, “You too.” I felt my face heat up. “Alright,” I said. Once my camera was ready, I sat next to him and spun it around to aim the lens at the both of us and took the picture. I looked at it with a smile. Wade looked so happy and that made me feel very special.

I decided to hang around for another hour to just talk to him. Apparently he was from Canada. His mother died of cancer when he was really young, and his father was an alcoholic and a huge douche bag. Wade was one of those rebellious types who only acted that way to piss off a parent. One night, his father found him drinking with his friends and tried to take him away. But one friend got ahold of his father’s handgun and killed him. He said that you could count him as an orphan then, even though he didn’t care because he was finally free. He said that life for him couldn’t get anymore better than it already was at that moment, and he was right. Later on in his life he met this girl named Vanessa Carlysle and he thought that she would be the one. But then he got cancer and decided to leave her so she wouldn’t have to see him die. After that, he came across this Weapon X Program, which offered to make him like Wolverine and cure him of his cancer.

But he decided against it because by that point, he had lost all hope in living. He even stopped his chemotherapy. He claimed that everyday he begged to die and when death wouldn’t come, he grew worse. He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat. He called his cancers the “slow assassins.” Then one night, while he was sick and basically dying in his bed, I popped up on the news and he felt a sudden wrath when he heard the names I was being called. He said that something inside woke up and he grew obsessed with trying to learn more about me. It wasn’t long before he’d seen me all over the newspapers and heard how everyone was split about their opinion of me. He, of course, was on the positive side. He even found himself defending me and taking clippings of the photos I took because he identified with me so much. He said that he even decided to get chemotherapy again just so he could keep up with the current events about me.

One night, after he had finished puking, he had seen me swing by his window and he nearly ran out to stop me, but he was too sick to move. Afterwards, he decided that it was about time he met me. He claimed it took himself a month to work up the courage. Then, in the midst of everything, he said that he began to wonder about my true identity. So he took a picture from The Daily Bugle and studied it. Then he began to wonder how the photographer was able to get such great shots in places like skyscrapers and crime scenes. He said that was when everything came together. That was how he knew.

Later on, his body reacted horribly to the chemo and he panicked, thinking he was gonna die. So in panic mode, he told the doctors that he would like to “cash in” his Wish and see me. He said it was a Now-or-Never moment for him, and he wanted to make the best of his time being spent with me by coming up with a bucket list.

I sat back and took all of this in, thinking about how I impacted his life without even realizing it. I couldn’t grasp the fact that I kept him alive. _Me_. Sure I saved lives all the time, but that was for the people who wanted to keep on living. Wade was already about to walk off the cliff and end it all, until I came along and yanked him back.

That was all I could think of as I rode home in the car with Aunt May. She asked me numerous questions, but I barely paid attention. I was too busy staring at the picture I took as Wade’s story echoed in the back of my mind. It was all so surreal. I stopped someone from dying. Me. That’s something that I could proudly say. It made me feel like I wasn’t so meaningless after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick tip on getting things done quicker: listen to Hammock and go.  
> Anywho, here's chapter two already! Oh my gosh once I started writing, I couldn't stop! I just love it when that happens!


End file.
